The Real Michelangelo
by SilverExorcist405
Summary: The thought had haunted him, gnawed at him, made him shake. He couldn't fall asleep like he used to, heck, he couldn't sleep period. He lived off of four hours of rest a day now. Because, somewhere along the way, the thought had changed from "Naming you Michelangelo was a mistake" to "You are a mistake." ...Brotherly fluff between Mikey and Raph, plus some awesome paintings Oneshot


**The Real Michelangelo**

Panting from exertion, Mikey stepped back and admired his handiwork. The shadows of the sewers flickered around the dancing flame of the candle he'd swiped from Leo's room. He'd already gone through several. There was a small puddle of cooling candle wax pooling behind him.

He had meant to bring a flashlight, but that meant going to Donnie's lab. Going to Donnie's lab meant talking to Donnie, and at the moment, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to one of his brothers. So he'd packed up the things he needed, which wasn't much, and left without a word. Now, he was here.

He sat down, leaning against the sewer wall, and tried to get at least some control over his respiratory system. He stared at the candle for a moment, entranced by the fire. But the more he stared at it, the more he was reminded of a certain hot headed turtle, and he soon looked away into the blackness of the seemingly infinite sewers.

When had this whole thing started? It seemed like a million years ago, but Mikey supposed it had only been a month. One whole agonizing month. He closed eyes and studied the purple swirls that appeared in the darkness of his eyelids. The swirls seemed to mock him, laughing at him and his inability to do anything.

Yes, it had only been a month ago when he'd crashed out of his room, all smiles and excitement.

He was practically beaming; the goofy smile on his face could have been the sun. Skipping past his brothers' rooms (who, no doubt, were still sleeping), he practically leaped through the common room in the middle of the lair. After flipping over his favorite beanbags and flashing the TV an award winning set of pearly whites, he cartwheeled into the kitchen.

Humming a tune he had heard on the radio Donnie had fixed for him when they were little turtles, he slid over the table until he was face to face with the refrigerator.

He ripped the freezer door open, startling awake a sleeping Ice Cream Kitty. Laughing jovially, Mikey waved with his signature exuberance.

"Well good morning my little Ice Cream Kitty! How are you doing this morning?"

A happy "Meow!" was followed with waving ice cream paws.

"You going to help me decide what I'm making for breakfast?"

This was answered with, if possible, an even more enthusiastic "Meow!"

"No. No, we can't have ice cream for breakfast. I'm one hundred percent with you, my friend, but Leo would probs give me a lecture bigger than Texas. Not to mention Sensei."

A questioning "Meow?" was his only reply.

"Omelets? No, we had omelets yesterday. Pizza? Nope, Donnie would chew my head off for that one. French toast? Wait, Raph doesn't really like French toast. Pizza? No, already said that. How about…pizza? No! Bad Mikey! Think breakfast! Come on, breakfast, breakfast, breakfast…"

Ice Cream Kitty gave a now completely and utterly confused "Meow?" before a light bulb appeared above Mikey's head.

"Aw yeah son! The Mikester has done it again!"

He gently closed the refrigerator door, then moon walked over to the stove, ingredients in hand. After singing while using a wooden spoon as a microphone and dance-cooking, he was covered in flour and was pouring his first pancake onto the skillet.

"Man, the guys are going to _love_ this! When was the last time I made pancakes? Dude, it's been like, _forever_. It's gonna be awesome!"

The first turtle to join Mikey in the kitchen was his blue banded brother.

"Good morning Mikey." Glancing over his shoulder, Mikey flashed him another one of his classic smiles.

"Wassup Leo?" Smiling softly, Leo took a seat at the table and rested his head against hand.

"Nothing much. Did you sleep well?"

This time, Mikey turned to face his brother as he replied, brandishing a ladle dripping with pancake batter.

"Like a baby, dude. It was, like, the best sleep _ever_. Haven't slept that well since…I don't know, yesterday."

Leo's smile grew, feelings of fondness twinkling in his blue eyes. His happy expression, however, was soon marred by a frown as he got a better look at his brother's face.

"You sure Mikey? You look really tired." And the truth was, Mikey actually looked exhausted. He had huge, black rings under his half lidded eyes, but he continued to have a huge lopsided grin split his face.

"Dude, I'm peachy. I was just finishing up this painting I did, and I sorta lost track of the time…" Mikey rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly, before flipping the pancake over with a spatula he snagged from a drawer. Leo still looked worried in a decidedly Leo-way, but his interest was obviously perked by Mikey's mention of a painting.

"A painting?" The sound of stumbling interrupted Leo as he glanced over his shoulder to see the sight of a zombie.

"Good morning, Donnie."

"Hhmmpphhhhhulgemof" was the purple turtle's reply, sluggishly making his way over to the table.

"That means, 'Good morning Leo.'" Mikey translated, a laugh already threatening to erupt from his lips.

"It's cool buddy, I got your life line right here." Mikey poured Donnie a cup of coffee which he had made unconsciously sometime that morning. He wasn't even sure when, it had become such a habit to make the caffeinated drink for his older brother.

Don grasped the mug that was placed in front of his face like it really _was_ his life line. Mikey snickered. He had given Donnie that mug for Christmas ten thousand millennia ago. He still remembered giving it to him. It was one of three mugs Sensei had found in the sewers out on a scavenging mission. It had once said "Number 1 Dad" but Mikey had crossed out Dad and painted "Brother" instead. He had given one to each of his three brothers. That had been a pretty awesome Christmas, especially since he had found another similar one, and given it to Sensei. He didn't have to cross out "Dad" that time.

Pulling out the syrup, Mikey served up the pancakes he had made so far before going back to making the rest of his batter. He didn't want to waste food, and his brothers ate a _lot_. Especially Raph.

Speaking of the hot head, Raph made his appearance only a second later, like a blood hound following the scent of his prey (also known as pancakes).

"Sup guys." Leo nodded at Raph in acknowledgement, while Donnie gurgled something into his mug. Raph smirked at the sight, before his expression fell. His thoughts were still filled with the horrors of a nightmare, one where he had failed. Again.

"Hey Raphie-boy!" A tick mark throbbed at Raph's forehead, and he whirled around to glare at the orange masked perpetrator. "Want a pancake?"

He was met with a plate containing a stack of pancakes soaking in syrup and butter in the face. Grumbling, he snatched his breakfast out of Mikey's hands as the younger turtle beamed at him. Quickly, Raph looked away. He had just seen that smiling face and those bright eyes, but instead his gaze had been glazed and unseeing, his face splattered with crimson…

After a few moments, they were all eating pancakes in silence at the table, too engrossed by the amazingness that was Mikey's pancakes to say anything.

Leo finished first, as he had been the first one to start eating. Looking around at his brothers, he felt at peace. Raph _did_ look grumpier than usual; his typical scowl seemed to have deepened, but that really wasn't anything new. Donnie was still half awake, another common sight. Everything seemed normal until he once more caught sight of the tired expression that had plastered itself to this baby brother's face.

"So, Mikey." Mikey looked up with him, a huge piece of pancake dripping with syrup half way up to his still open mouth. "What's up with this painting you sacrificed a good night's rest for?"

Donnie, now awake, looked up from his own breakfast, "You painted something Mikey?"

Nodding his head with unashamed enthusiasm, Mikey continued chewing with renewed vigor, "Yeah! Iss thi' really coo' pictah tha' I been tryinggh t' dra' forevah!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, my son."

All the turtles' attention switched up to the large rat that had now entered the kitchen.

"Good morning Sensei."

"Good morning Sensei!"

"Mornin' Sensei."

"Goo'" Mikey swallowed. "Morning, Sensei!"

"Good morning, my sons." Master Splinter smiled down at the four turtles. "I expect you in the dojo in fifteen minutes for morning practice."

"Hai Sensei." They said in unison, Raph actually looking excited about training for once. He needed to burn off some energy, needed to get better. He needed to be good enough so that he'd never have to see _that_ again.

Master Splinter nodded, and was about to leave when he thought about what he had heard of the conversation his sons had been having before he had entered.

"Michelangelo." Said turtle sat up straighter. "Could I also see this painting that you have been discussing? It sounds as if you are very proud of your work, my son."

To say that Mikey's face light up would have been an understatement. His face was practically _glowing_.

And suddenly, all that remained of the pancakes on Mikey's plate had disappeared, and, for that matter, so had Michelangelo, leaving behind three absolutely stunned brothers and an amused Sensei.

"Nitwit." Raph grumbled, already working himself into more of a bad mood. Nobody should be this happy in the morning. Not when they could be training, getting better, or getting rid of the scum on the streets. Raph's eyes were already narrowing, becoming more threatening-

And then a there was Michelangelo, carefully walking over to them. He was gingerly holding a board in his hand, facing away from his brothers so that they couldn't see the image on the other side.

Finally, Mikey made it to the head of the table, glancing up at his small family. He was nervous, like _really_ nervous. He had spent a lot of time on this painting, and he knew it wasn't the best, but it wasn't awful. And, personally, he really liked it.

Looking up at the interested faces of his bros and his Sensei, all the attention on him, he felt his legs turn to jelly and his insides suddenly decided to have a disco party. Biting his lip, Mikey was about to turn the board around to show them, but his hand had frozen.

"Mikey?"

Mikey blinked, and looked up at Leo, who at the moment had a look of confusion on his face. In fact, all of his family (expect for Raph, who was practically snarling at his pancakes) was looking at him worriedly and with no small amount of bemusement. Hadn't he just been so excited to show it to them?

Scoffing, Raph growled, "Well, knuckle head, you going to show it to us or not?"

Mikey was as stiff as the board which he was holding. An expecting and clearly not amused look from his red-banded brother egged him on. He always looked up to Raph, to the point of almost hero worship. Really, Mikey did that with all his brothers, but it had always been Raph that had scared away the monsters that haunted the shadows of his bedroom and protected him from any enemy that dared even look at him weird.

Quickly, Mikey turned the picture around, and shut his eyes tightly.

He was greeted with silence.

He peeled his eyes open and anxiously looked at his brother's reactions.

All of them, including Sensei, were completely stunned.

Mikey had painted a picture of the lair viewed from the common area's floor. Although some of his brush strokes were a little crooked and not all of the colors seemed quite right, it was a truly amazing picture. They could all tell how much time and effort Mikey had put into it.

Master Splinter was the first to speak.

"My son…this is beautiful."

"Yeah, Mikey, it's awesome!" Donnie exclaimed.

"Mikey, this is great!" Leo agreed, admiring the work of art the more he looked at it.

Almost expectantly, Mikey looked up over at Raph, a timid grin on his face. However, the grin soon fell when he saw his brother's expression.

"It's not right."

The entire family, excluding Mikey, looked at Raph with confused and slightly mad looks.

"Some of the colors are wrong, and not all the lines are right. God, Mikey, show it to us when it's done."

"Raph!" Leo exclaimed, completely surprised by his brother's harshness. Sure, Raph could be mean, but he couldn't just, just..!

Meanwhile, Mikey's eyes had doubled in size. Master Splinter, sensing his sons growing distress, and not a little bit frustrated with his second oldest son, was about to say something to intervene when Mike spoke in a breathless whisper that was so un-Mikey like it froze him in place.

"It _is_ done."

Raph, not really sensing his little brother's growing distress nor the increased tension hanging in the air, continued, "Wow, the more I look at it the worse it gets. I think Sensei made a mistake by naming you Michelangelo, you should be, like, the janitor of an art museum, not the artist."

Finally, Master Splinter regained his voice. "Raphael! Leave the room this instant!"

"What?! I was just telling the truth!" Raph replied, indignant.

The look his Sensei sent him, however, was enough to shut him up for days.

"It's okay. It was stupid anyway…" muttered Mikey. Master Splinter looked over at his youngest son, concern almost overwhelming him.

Scowling, Raph stormed out of the kitchen, muttering about how stupid paintings were. Donatello had stood up, and was taking a step towards Mikey, who had looked like he had just been slapped.

"Mikey…" Leonardo started to say, before Mikey turned around. The picture he had so carefully brought from out of his room fell to the ground with an echoing clatter. Michelangelo didn't even spare it a second glance.

He slowly turned his head over to look at Master Splinter, and he smiled.

Leo really wanted to kill Raph when he saw Mikey smile. It was the most painful smile he had ever seen, full of an agony that tore at his heart. Mikey should never have to force a smile. Not Mikey.

"Thanks Sensei. I'll be at practice in a minute."

And then Mikey was gone, disappearing into his room, and when Donnie came to get him for morning practice, he thought he heard the sound of sobbing through the door.

But that had been a month ago, and now Mikey rubbed his eyes at the memory. He really was tired. After that morning practice a month ago, he had left the lair on his skateboard to get out of that place he had spent so long trying to perfect with paint… that's when he had run into this place.

It was an abandoned part of the sewers, a pipe that neither workers nor his brothers went down. It was dry, almost unusually so, and it had smooth, concrete walls that lacked any cracks or blemishes of any kind. It wasn't small either. Mikey couldn't touch the top without help from an empty crate he had found forgotten in a corner outside of Donnie's lab. Faintly, Mikey wondered why his brothers never came down here. It was the perfect place to…

To paint.

The walls were so smooth, it was the perfect canvas. So, for the past month, Mikey had been leaving the lair every day, sometimes late at night, saying he was going skateboarding. And yes, he did skateboard, but only until he got to his secret place of sanctuary.

He had smuggled in his paintbrushes and his paints, his pencils and his sketchbooks. He was going to make a masterpiece.

 _Naming you Michelangelo was a mistake._

The thought had haunted him, gnawed at him, made him shake. He couldn't fall asleep like he used to, heck, he couldn't sleep period. He lived off of four hours of rest a day now. Because, somewhere along the way, the thought had changed from " _Naming you Michelangelo was a mistake_ " to " _You are a mistake._ "

But God, he loved his brothers.

Which was why, there, in the flickering candle light, a small smile ghosted across his features.

So many hours, so many days. And now, finally, he could say.

"It is done."

The flaring shadows made no reply, but kept silent. Mikey's blue eyes traced his brush strokes, lingered over every line, every hue, every detail. Everything was perfect. This time, he had done it. He had really done it.

He had painted the lair once more, but this time, he had done it _right_. He had painted Sensei up in the dojo with Leo, serious but peaceful expressions adorning their faces. Tongue sticking out in concentration, Donnie was fiddling with a radio, walking towards his lab. Raph was pummeling the dummy they had hung up on a small crane, a fierce look on his face that could have killed.

Mikey had debated with himself whether he should draw himself in or not, and finally settled with him watching Raph with a dumb smile on his face. It made him want to laugh, but all that came out was a hollow chuckle.

Moving on through the tunnel, the image had changed from the broad picture of the lair to life sized, individual shots of his family. Master Splinter was laughing softly just outside of his room in the dojo, and Leo was performing a kata with flawless form. Donnie was incased in a perfect rendition of his lab, and Raph was glaring at the viewer of the image, completely dosed in water from the remains of water balloon, and Spike was resting quietly on his shoulder. Mikey had drawn a picture of himself in the kitchen twirling a pizza in the air with a view from behind, so that he couldn't see his own face.

Finally, at the very end of the huge mural, Mikey had painted all of his brothers standing together on the rooftops of New York, the stars gleaming above them, reflecting off their drawn weapons.

Just looking at it, Mikey could almost convince himself that he really was in the lair.

Yes, that was Master Splinter laughing at one of the few good jokes that made it to his soft ears. And that was Leo about to nail him with a round house kick, and Donnie was about to look up at him and yell at him for coming into his lab. Mikey was especially proud of the painting of Donnie's lab. His memory was almost photographic, and every nick knack and gadget was in the exact same position as Don had left it. Raph was threatening him with a beating this very moment, because Dr. Prankenstein had struck again. The wind was in his face as they leaped from rooftop to rooftop, before coming to a halt over the streets of New York and onto the wall of the sewer tunnel.

Picking up his skateboard, Mikey blew out the candle and plunged the tunnel into darkness. The silence ate away at him, making him want to cower in the corner, but instead he hopped on his skateboard and started on the way home that he had practically memorized over the past month.

It was pretty late at night, if the red numbers of 2:03 from the digital clock in the corner of the common room meant anything. Tiptoeing over to his room, he tried his best to be quiet. He didn't want to wake his bros.

After making the dangerous journey through his room, Mikey collapsed onto his bed. He wanted to sleep. He really did. He closed his eyes and hoped.

 _You're a mistake._

The nightmare was short but deadly.

It started off normal- Mikey was hanging out in the lair, playing his favorite video game. It was then, however, when he heard laughing in the dojo.

Getting up, Mikey made his way into the dojo to find Sensei and his three brothers laughing. Mikey basked in their happiness for a moment, glad to see the cheerfulness that spread across their faces.

However, when their eyes landed on Mikey, their countenances turned cold, and all humor was lost in the thinning air. Mikey found he was having trouble breathing as they continued to glare, to stare, their eyes burning into him…

They said things. Awful things. They hated him. He was a mistake. He shouldn't be here. He was stupid. They didn't need him. Nobody needed him. Nobody wanted him.

Then, all at once, everything was dark. Then, just as Mikey thought that he was choking on shadows, the brightness came.

And he saw them.

Flies, circling around them. Swords sticking from their chests. Dull eyes, glazed as they stared at the sky. As they stared at _him_. The ghost of their laughing voices prancing and fading on the air, replaced by a cold, dead, silence.

His family.

So wounded that Mikey couldn't bear to see them anymore, but he couldn't move. Blood. So much blood. Guts. Muscle, hanging out of wounds. Bones protruding, skin flayed. And the blood.

He heard Raph's voice first, then Sensei, then Leo, then Donnie. Telling him that this was his fault. All his fault. They hated him. They didn't need him.

 _You're a mistake_.

Mikey's eyes flew open, and suddenly he realized that he'd been crying. He'd been crying because his hero, his older brother, didn't want him. He was a mistake. He'd been crying because he knew it was true, and even though he knew he was being pathetic and selfish, he couldn't stop the tears after they started.

He didn't want to cry, but he needed to.

And suddenly he was on his feet again, and he was staggering out of the lair once more.

Now he was running, his feet carrying him on a route he'd gone so many times before. The familiarity was strange yet comfortable. The tears didn't stop.

He ran into the tunnel, so dark, so cold. He stopped when he felt the wax beneath his feet, and then he was fumbling around for a match, big pearly tears dropping from his cheeks. Finally, he found the blasted thing, and after striking it against the box he lit the candle and threw the match away.

And then he was wailing. He was almost screaming, his throat so raw it feels like it was bleeding. He sobbed and wished he wasn't crying.

Raph hadn't meant it that way. He was just being honest with him. Mikey knew this. He _knew this_. Why did it bother him so much? Why was he haunted by this so deeply?

"It's because it's true." He choked out, his voice scratchy and raw and so not like the voice he normally called his own.

The idea that he wasn't needed, that he was mistake, was not a new idea. It wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed his mind before.

It was just that what Raph had said only seemed to confirm it. He wanted to do at least one thing right. He wasn't the best fighter, and he wasn't smart like Donnie. He could never be the leader. He could never be as strong as his brothers.

So he'd tried out drawing, thinking of his name. That was his inspiration. _His name_. That's why he had looked into art.

He'd spent so much time. _So much time_. So many hours had gone by. How many days had he spent learning different drawing techniques? How many seconds had ticked by as he struggled to make just the right mark on just the right point on the page to make the picture look convincing, to make it look real? He'd gotten so serious about it. When he finally got a set of paints from Master Splinter for Christmas, he'd practically been bouncing off the walls. He wanted to make his family proud. He wanted to make them _proud_. He wanted them to need him.

It was why he made breakfast, why he had tried so hard to master cooking. Why he told jokes, so that his family wasn't always so serious. They needed a break from being tense, you know? Well now, now the joke was on him. Now he needed to be serious. Now he was _trying_ to be serious.

And he was still a joke.

"I'm still a mistake." He whimpered out loud, banging his fist into his thigh. There would be a bruise there later, but he didn't care. He didn't care at all.

"No you're not."

His tear stained face whipped up, searching for the voice that had replied. Stepping into the flickering candle light, eyes only for his little brother, was Raph.

At Mikey's stunned expression, Raph's mouth twitched a smile, before becoming serious once more.

"You're not a mistake." Raph reiterated, his voice firm and solid and confidant, like he knew exactly what he was talking about and he was one hundred million percent sure that he was right.

Mikey gulped like a fish, completely flabbergasted.

Raph took a step forward, falling to his knees beside his baby brother. A shaky hand left his side and cupped Mikey's face, and he tried to wipe away his brother's tears with his thumb. Mikey leaned into his touch, needing the feeling of another person so close, so caring.

And suddenly his face was up against Raph's plastron and Raph's chin was on top of his head, and Mikey was so happy that he wasn't a mistake that he just hugged Raph back even tighter because - oh shell - _he loved him and he didn't want to let go, not ever_.

"I love you, bro."

But even though Mikey was thinking it, it was Raph who said it, and suddenly Mikey was gibbering and rambling about how much he loved him too and how sorry he was for overreacting and this was all his fault and then-

And then Raph had pulled him away and was looking him straight in the eye.

"Mikey. None of this is your fault. This is…" Raph took a deep breath. "…this is my fault. I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I'm so sorry, little bro. I never meant to say that to you. Of course you deserve to be called Michelangelo. I love you. Nothing I said was true. Nothing! I- I'm so sorry."

Raphael never apologized. Raphael never stuttered. Maybe it was these facts that left Mikey in silence, but whatever the reason, he simply could not say anything. His voice was too sore from screaming, perhaps, he thought mildly.

"Mikey?"

Mikey looked up at his big brother, because, at some point, he'd looked down.

"Please say you forgive me?"

Raph was holding his breath, Mikey could tell. There was hope in his dark emerald eyes, but there was also fear. Raph? Afraid? Never. But Mikey knew what he was afraid of. He was afraid that Mikey wouldn't forgive him, that Mikey would continue to be the depressed and quiet turtle he had been this past month.

Mikey smiled a small smile.

"I forgave you a long time ago, bro." His voice was a croak. "It's just…you were _right_."

Raph shook his head, stern and sure.

"No, Mikey. I was _wrong_."

And then Mikey launched himself into Raph's arms and Raph fell over, and then they were laughing and tickling each other and now Mikey wasn't crying from pain anymore, but rather, from happiness.

After they sat there panting for a few minutes, comfortable in the brotherly silence between the two, Raph had a chance to look around.

"Mikey, what _is_ this place?"

Perhaps it was the utter wonder in his voice, or the shock, but whatever it was it made Mikey just as nervous as he had been a month ago.

"Oh, you know, just a place…"

"Mikey, are these _paintings_?"

Shyly, Mikey nodded. Raph pried what was left of the candle from the puddle of solid wax and held it up to the walls. He walked up and down the length of the tunnel, mouth hung open, eyes wide.

Raph was speechless.

By the time Raph had gotten to the rooftop scene, he had tears standing in his eyes. Mikey's paintings weren't good, they were _breathtaking_.

"Mikey…"

Mikey looked up at his big brother, and he half expected Raph to tell him that his paintings were awful. That they stunk. That he was an awful artist.

"This isn't good..."

Mikey blinked. He knew it, Raph hated it, hated _him_ -

"…this is better than Michelangelo. This puts the Sistine Chapel to shame. You're the real Michelangelo, bro."

Quite honestly, Mikey had never been so happy in his entire life.

The next day, Raph practically dragged the rest of family, including Master Splinter, down to see Mikey's tunnel.

It left everyone just as thunderstruck as Raph. They were all in tears by the time they had made it out of the manmade cave, and Mikey was pretty sure he'd never been hugged this much in his life. Master Splinter had even said that his paintings were "beyond beautiful, my son."

By the end of the whole thing, Mikey was in tears, too.

He was needed. He wasn't a mistake. His fears were unfounded.

Whenever Mikey was upset about something after that, Raph always knew where to find him. He could always find his orange-banded brother, candle beside him, staring up at his artwork. Raph would sit down next to him then, wrapping a comforting arm around his baby brother's shoulders.

With each picture came a memory, and with each memory came emotion. Whether it was pain or happiness or sorrow, whether it was anger or love or regret, the brothers would share the moment together, in each other's arms.

It was after a particularly bad fight with the Foot that Raph found him in the tunnel once more, lacking his usual goofy grin. And after they had their moment, and after the emotion had flown through their blood like a poison fire, they stood and they turned back to go to the lair.

But just as they were leaving, Raph caught a glint, a spark, in his brother's baby blue eyes. The orange-banded turtle whispered something, something that made Raph smile.

"The _real_ Michelangelo."

Raph slung his arm around his brother's neck, and Mikey smiled up at him with that same love, that same admiration that he always reserved for his older brothers. Raph merely smiled back.

When they finally made it back to the lair, Leo didn't even ask them where they had been. When Donnie past them by and asked what they were having for breakfast tomorrow, Mikey felt a grin split across his face with an enthusiasm that was completely, unquestionably, one hundred and twenty thousand million percent Michelangelo.

Laughing a pure Mikey laugh, he glanced at his brothers with that same stupid grin on his face.

"Is everybody okay with pancakes?"

A/N : THANK YOU Inuyashagirl7692 for beta-ing my story! Please everyone check out Inuyashagirl7692's stuff, it's absolutely AMAZING! ("A Ninja Promise" is highly recommended) Anyway, thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW!


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